Rafe slipped back to the room, and Velveteens took down from the wall a piece of venison, which might have weighed four pounds. This he cut open, and from a pocket of his ragged hunting-shirt he now took a bottle, from which he shook into the cut a quantity of a whitish substance and then closed up the orifice he had made.
The window was partially raised, and thrusting out his hand, he dropped the meat under the nose of Bruin, who snapped it up greedily and devoured it in the twinkling of an eye. Having done his work, Velveteens lay down again, while Rafe watched from the open door of the room in which he had been confined, ready to make a rush if either Dave or Old Pegs came out of the recess.
A few moments later, they heard a scuffling, confused sound and the rattle of a chain, as if the bear was running away at the top of his speed.
Velveteens chuckled and beckoned to Rafe, who again came out softly, and the two stood in the middle of the room a moment; and then, opening the door carefully, they went out together, closing the door after them, while the others, never dreaming of the escape, slept profoundly.
It was nearly morning when Old Pegs rose, took up his rifle—which always lay within reach of his hand—and went out into the main room.
He saw that the blanket of Velveteens was empty, and the door of the prison open. Springing to the door, he looked in, and his cry of rage awoke Dave, who started up and came out, to find Old Pegs dancing wildly about the room, swearing like a trooper.
“He’s a nice cuss, that Velveteens, he is!” he screamed. “He ’scaped from the Sioux—he did! Oh, knives and razor-grinders! Oh, dog every button on my shirt, he’s cheated us!”
“Gone!” cried Dave, in dismay.
“Yaas, gone; gone like a thief in the night. Fled like a shadder, leaving no sign to mark the spot whar he laid down. Oh, how it grinds me that I didn’t let old Bruin chaw him up.”
“He is evidently in league with the Sioux and Rafe Norris,” said Dave. “Shall we try to follow them?”